Getting to know you (turret)
by Espresso Stories
Summary: All it takes is time to go from an up and coming soldier to an on-the-run divorcee wanted for war crimes. Obsession and unhealthily clinging to old tools may follow. (Proof that for me, titles are difficult.)


**Getting to know you (turret)  
**

* * *

Axton puffed into his hands, rubbing them together furiously as he squatted down in front of the comm. equipment. It was bad enough that it was surplus tech, out-dated by two years, but the uplink through the local storms were making communications Hell. Again.

"Overlord, can you repeat that? I do not copy, over."  
"This is Overlord – request _denied_. You're relief won't be available for another two weeks, over."  
"Ah, what the Hell, Sarah!" Axton threw his coffee, already cold, away in disgust.  
"That's _Sergeant_ to you, Corporal. I may have agreed to go on a date or two with you, but we are both on duty right now."  
"Right, sorry. As I was sayin'," he tugged a thick blanket around his shoulders and rested his chin on the console, huffing. "What the Hell, _Sergeant_."

Wether a sigh or mere static, he couldn't tell. But the tone of voice he heard seemed mildly amused.  
"Yes, well I've explained your situation and pushed through some paperwork. You can Digistruct a package any time now."  
Axton furrowed his brow and fiddled with the console, accepting the transfer and watching a small, bevelled box construct on the deck.  
"What's this thing?" he mumbled, picking it up and looking it over.

"That, Corporal, is a Dahl Sabre Turret, Mk. 2." His eyes widened as he turned it over, inspecting the box.  
"Usually, you'd have to wait until you passed your next exam and rank, but the higher up's have agreed to allow its use. With certain conditions."  
"I agree to any and all," he said without thinking it through. The amused clip returned to Sarah's voice.  
"Good – then you'll understand why it's a demo model; locked up. No upgrades available, but it should still provide ample firepower." Axton's face fell and he huffed again, ending the conversation with a curt but respectful dismissal. The box turned over in his hands.  
"The most versatile weapon in Dahl's arsenal," he mumbled, throwing it to the corner of the room to land on a damp blanket. "And I get its neutered bitch."

* * *

Axton rubbed his forehead, tracing his newly implanted sergeant rank seal and fighting off the headache he was developing as Theodore continued to drone on. More than once he wanted to let Theo know just how much he hated him. Idle thoughts of breaking his silly laser pointer and telling him to stop listing all the ways a plan could go wrong. '_I hate you so much it gives me energy_,' he wanted to say, stopping long enough to think of poor Mackenzie in the hospital wing. Wounded on the last operation, leaving Axton to partner up with the Anti-Mackenzie.

"And if we don't secure the front door, we will most likely be torn asunder by chain gun fire." Theodore continued.  
'_Who the Hell says Asunder?_'Axton thought, casting a dull eye at his barely-outranking officer. Clean, fresh faced, absolutely spotless. A soldier who spent more time at a desk than in a fox hole, and would probably get them both killed in no time.

The night before the operation, Axton snuck out and infiltrated the camp on his own. He was successful enough, but discovered after triggering an alarm inside a hanger bay.

Later, when he lay in his hospital bed, having his torn chin cleaned and stitched up, he was debriefed harshly on his apparent survival.  
"Well, seeing as I was newly upgraded to that Turret ma-bob, thought I'd give it a field test. Sat it in front of the door and let it provide cover while I snuck out the back." He grinned, wincing at the pain in his jaw. "Figured it'd distract 'em, but damn… it just mowed 'em all down."  
"Then why didn't you take the opportunity to flee?" he was then asked.  
"Ah c'mon! I had to go back for it! Something that awesome you don't leave behind for the other team to discover."

His exasperated officer pinched his nose as Theodore shook his head.  
"Sergeant, the turret de-constructs upon emptying its payload. It leaves no trace of itself." Axton's bloody face went slack.  
"How should I know that?" he asked.  
"I suggest you read the manual. You've got time – I'm confining you to barracks until the hearing is over. But, good news – you can pick up your Purple Heart on the way out."

* * *

Ex-Sergeant Axton examined Sarah's ring, barely noticing the size of the diamond he had spent months saving up for. She had often said it was too big to wear, practically. Now, he idly wondered if being "less than used" would fetch a higher price for it. He downed his glass of ale and left the dim bar through the back door, pulling a wide-awake hat over his brow to cover his still-present rank sign.

"Ey', gotta time?" called a voice from an adjoining alleyway.  
"Time to get a watch," he said gruffly. Being in a damp alley was just making him dwell more on his current situation. The nearby voice took offence to this however and stepped out into the light, gripping a submachine gun in a pair of scarred hands.

"Mebbe you've not heard o' me," he started again. "But the local pigs will pay five grand for my 'ead on a platter. An if you don't gimme your money, you'll find out why." Axton raised his head, tilting back his hat just enough to take in the figure and the alleyway behind him. Five grand wasn't much, when all was said and done – but it was a warm bed and a train ticket to the next town. He bowed, low, and withdrew a bevelled plate from his SDU, the Dahl logo glinting in pale moonlight.

"Certainly – don't want no trouble now. Here, it's all yours…"

* * *

Vault Hunter Axton raised his assault rifle and peppered the roaring, raging psycho in his knees. The hulking bandit slipped in the slushy frost of Three Horns, clawing at the ground in front of the Commando. A neat, bevelled box fell to the ground and flashed. Whirring, growing, steel sliding and revolving and unwinding. Belts rattled and the Sabre Turret completed its boot up. The psycho pawed snow off his face as the chain gun whirred and opened fire.

Axton patted the boxy gun on the top as the barrel slowed down, smoke and ozone filling the air as the headless bandit fell forward into the red snow.  
"Love ya, turret."


End file.
